Top Hats And Clowns
by Klainey
Summary: New Direction was a traveling circus. Once a year, they would arrive in the darkest hours of night, stay for exactly five days and then dissapear into the night again. For Blaine Anderson those five days were the best of the whole year.
1. Prologue

Top Hats and Clowns

Spring. The word had an almost magical meaning to Blaine Anderson. It meant no more snow, no more cold, no more nights of lying awake because his teeth were chattering so hard, it meant plants beginning to bloom again, it meant birds returning.

It meant the Five Days.

Now, to the people not native to Ohio, that sounded absolutely ridiculous. A whole year of wait for five days? What kind of fool does that?

No. The Five Days were the height of Blaine Anderson's year.

New Direction was a traveling circus. Once a year, they would arrive in the darkest hours of night, stay for exactly five days and then disappear into the night again. You might say that's not so intriguing. You might say that that wasn't so out of the ordinary. It wasn't, not really. Except for the fact that, in all those years that Blaine had gone to the circus, ever since he was three years old, nothing had changed.

Nothing had changed.

He remembered being scared of the big lady with the beard, the tigers and one of the clowns, with a particularly peculiar haircut.

Now, more than sixteen years later, they were all still there. Not only were they there, they had not aged one bit. They still looked exactly the same.

Something was definitely off about the New Direction Circus, but even if it bothered them, people didn't show it. They kept going, each year over and over again. Every day of the five, the Big Top was stuffed with people of all ages, all descent.

Everyone came to the Circus.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: I might alter some characters to fit the storyline, so don't comment that they're not exactly like it, or that it didn't happen like that on the show, because I know. **

**It was that time again.**

Blaine had gone to sleep with the heavenly smell of spring in his nose, in his dorm in the Dalton Academy. His dorm looked out upon a large clearing. The last he had seen before his eyes had fallen shut was a small rabbit making its way over the large patch of grass. Now, when he woke up, all he could see was a tent. A big top to be exact. A big top that looked very very familiar. That was when he noticed the big letters right on the side of the cart on the other side of the clearing.

New Direction Circus.

His heart immediately skipped a beat. Had it already been a year since the last visit? Apparently it had. He jumped out of his bed, ignoring the fact that it was a mere six in the morning, and darted across the room. He was looking for clothes, the few pennies he had left, his guitar, everything so he could go and buy a ticket to the Circus. He all but fell down the stairs in his hurry to reach the front door, sprinting outside. There was no line yet, so Blaine positioned himself in front of the entrance. He laid out his hat and took his guitar. While he was idly strumming and tuning the instrument, a man walked by. He stopped in front of the boy with the guitar and Blaine looked up through his eyelashes.

He saw a man that was positively towering over him. Blaine knew he wasn't the tallest of all men but this man was definitely something different. He was tall and lanky, but his face looked friendly as he gazed down on Blaine.

"What are you playing?" he asked with a hint of curiosity in his voice, as it is heard often with small children.

"Uhm. I'm just playing some scales right now. You know, to get my fingers warmed up."

It might have been spring, but that didn't mean the weather was beautiful already. Blaine's fingers were tingling with the cold seeping through the fingerless gloves he was wearing and the wind bit his ears and made him shiver in his thin sweater. The giants face scrunched up.

"Are you cold? My mom says that if you see someone being cold you have to give him or her some love, because love warms the heart and the heart warms the rest of you. I'm Finn by the way."

Blaine smiled. Besides being really tall, the gia- _Finn_ was sort of good looking.

Blaine had known he liked boys from the moment that Michael Jones had kissed him in the shed behind the school, three years ago. He didn't tell anyone though, in fear of being chased, beaten up and mocked.

Finn was still looking at him expectantly, and Blaine answered hurriedly.

"No, I'm okay, but thanks! I'm Blaine. What are you doing here actually, the ticket stand isn't open yet, so I don't think you're here to buy a ticket."

Finns grin grew wider.

"I don't need a ticket, silly. I'm on the show."

He got to hear the whole story. How Finn and his mother Carole had joined the Circus in Lima, Ohio because the people were taunting them. People looked down on them, because Carole had never married a man but had still gotten Finn. They saw Finn as a son of the Devil because he was so tall, he was a freak of nature, and all of it was a punishment from God because Carole had had intercourse without being married. How the Circus had welcomed them with open arms. How they didn't have to hide in the Circus.

Blaine heard it all with his eyes wide open. Could it be? A place where he could just be _Blaine_? A place where no one would call him names or beat him up for liking other guys? It sounded impossible to him, but yet here it was. The living proof. Finn looked at the sky with a dreamy look on his face. He stared at the birds flying over and suddenly his face turned serious.

"Oh I have to go, or Kurt will be mad at me. Bye! I'll see you at the show!"

Before Blaine could ask who this Kurt was Finn had already turned on his heels and started walking. The guy was enormous, so there was no way Blaine could keep up with him. He shrugged and started strumming his guitar again, thoughts of the Circus and its habitants floating through his mind.

'What if I could join. What if?'

After a few hours, the people started coming in gradually. His hat filled up with pennies and nickels and soon enough there was a half a circle formed around him. People were shouting requests at him and he gladly played what they wanted to hear. After all, he needed the money to buy a ticket.

He kept playing, until a booming voice sounded from the ticket booth and every person within hearing distance turned their heads as if an invisible puppeteer had moved them all at the same time.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is The Ringmaster and I would like to welcome you all… to the New Direction."

On top of the cart stood a man. He wore a blue, glittering jacket with two slips of fabric that extended from his back; the lapels bright red and a red top hat was perched onto his head. He was large, but not like someone who eats too much everyday. More like someone who spends his days lifting heavy objects, cracking his whip and commanding people. He looked exactly like the ringmaster he had first seen so many years ago.

Everyone looked spellbound by his words, but as soon as he was done talking the spell was lifted and all Blaine could see were legs, running to get to the ticket booth as soon as possible. Blaine got up, his hat clutched in one hand and for once, he was happy to be small.

With the agility of a cat he avoided trampling legs, waving arms, grabbing hands, and he made his way over to the front of the line. There were only three people in front of him. He smiled contently.

Some fifteen minutes later he was back at his dorm, ticket hidden carefully in his sock drawer. His classes started in five minutes but he couldn't care less.

Tonight, he would go to the Circus.

A few stars already flickered in the dark blue of the night, as Blaine made his way to the big red and white big top. He still had more than an hour before the actual show started, but he didn't want to be late and he still wanted to see the small shows and warming ups the performers did before the show.

A new trailer caught his eye. In all the years he had been to the Circus, he'd never seen this one. He could name all the others. The black one with the yellow dots was for the clowns, the one with the purple for the three acrobats, two pretty blonde girls and a darker type, the red one with black stars painted on it for the Asian Magician, the green one for the freaks. And the deep blue one, the exact color of the night in the hours when the sun has just set and before it's completely dark. . The Ringmaster.

There was something off about him, that aura of silence and obedience that always seemed to hang around where he was. With two words he could command a whole crowd and with a cracking of his whip even the most ferocious animal would crawl into its cage, yelping.

The Ringmaster was the only person in the Circus Blaine had ever seen changing. Changing, yes, but not aging. If anything he just kept getting younger. Odd.

Blaine walked to the tent slowly, just enjoying the buzzing and humming of the atmosphere around him. All of the excitement of the day, the smell of the popcorn, the sound of the stalls and booths on the clearing, next to the big top. It wasn't anything like any other Circus you would ever go to.

A low humming sound whirled through the crowd and everyone looked as if they were mute all of a sudden, their attention completely absorbed by the figure in deep blue and red that stood on top of the big top. Blaine couldn't help but wonder how he had even gotten up there.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. May I have your attention please? In a few moments we will start the show, so please, make your way to the centre of this Carnival in a calm way. Thank you."

The voice of The Ringmaster sounded over the whole clearing and it bounced off the trees, made the leafs send out a sound as if they were whispering to each other just like the people standing under them.

The next few seconds the Circus went dead quiet. No one dared to say a word, much less move a muscle. The whole crowd was in absolute silence.

Blaine was the first to snap out of his dazed condition. His sight was blurry, but clear enough to slowly make his way to the giant tent in the middle of the Carnival. The sound of the cracking and rustling of the twigs breaking underneath his feet seemed deafening in the utter silence that the place was drowned in. Even the birds and the insects seemed to have stopped buzzing and chirping. He shot nervous glances sideways, but all he saw was people still staring at the man on top of the tent, standing so still he thought they were frozen in the middle of conversation. He looked straight ahead at the entrance of the tent and suddenly a cold blast of air sucked him in. He was standing in the middle of the big top, right in the centre of the big circle of sand where every performance took place. The place was pitch dark, but suddenly one spotlight shone down on him. He looked up, his eyes squinted against the sudden bright light, trying to figure out who was moving the spotlight, but he couldn't see any kind of human form. No one was to be seen on the tribunes, and no sounds from outside came in. He looked around wondering where everyone was when he heard a voice chiming through the tent. It was a mere whisper, but he could hear the words loud and clear.

'Come with us.'

His breathing hitched in his throat for a moment, and for a minute he thought he had imagined it. But then in sounded again.

'Come with us…'

He looked around, searching for the source of the voice. He turned around franticly, his eyes darting around the inside of the big top.

'Come with us…'

The voice sounded right in his ear, and he all but screamed. He looked around but he couldn't make out anything because of the bright light still shining into his eyes. A soft giggle came from somewhere near the top of the tent. He whipped around, looking bewildered. Suddenly, a tall, slender figure appeared next to him.

"Boo."

Blaine almost jumped two feet in the air, but he whipped around and looked into the most vivid blue eyes he had ever seen.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N:

Blaine stared into the stranger's eyes for what felt like hours, before the eyes crinkled a little and a soft chuckle escaped the pair of lips underneath the eyes. Soft, luscious, pink lips. Blaine shook his head to clear the foggy state of his brain. The man in front of him was still looking at him with a smirk plastered onto his face. A pink tongue snaked out to wet his lips and Blaine's eyes couldn't let go of the sight of those lips. He tried to move, to maybe turn away or avert his eyes, but he couldn't, hypnotized by the wonders of the sea glass colored eyes. A pale hand with long, slender fingers trailed its way up his arm. The grin on the beautiful man's face turned into a smug smile. In a whoosh of air Blaine suddenly found himself pressed between the side of one of the tribunes and a slender body, the hot breath of the beautiful stranger ghosting over his ear as he whispered, "Come with us…" followed by a soft chuckle that Blaine could feel reverberating through his whole body. He repressed a shudder as the man lightly ran his tongue along the shell of Blaine's ear, repeating the three words every so often.

Now that he thought about it, Blaine never felt the lips, which were now slowly kissing their way down to his neck, moving. He could hear the voice inside his head, but never see or feel the lips moving. Strange. But Blaine didn't mind at that moment because–_oh god– _the stranger had found his clavicle and was now softly pressing kisses to it and sucking it lightly every now and then.

"Kurt! Back off."

Both men jumped at the sudden, harsh sound of a voice sounding trough the tent. The man, Kurt, hissed and turned around to face the man entering the big top.

"You back off, Puckerman. This one's mine."

Puckerman looked over to Blaine, examining him from head to toe. He nodded appreciatively.

"Well, at least you've got good taste. Now let him go. Ringy wants to see him."

Kurt turned back to Blaine, his face in a cute little pout.

"They never let me have my fun." He said while tracing Blaine's collarbone with his long, pale fingers. Blaine suppressed a moan and Kurt giggled coyly, then sighed.

"Fine. But when The Ringmaster's done with him, I want him back."

Blaine took the opportunity to take a look at Puckerman during the conversation. He was dressed in sort of baggy clothing, hiding a body that, as far as Blaine could see, looked pretty muscular. His haircut was particularly strange. His whole head was shaved within millimetres from his scalp, save for a strip of hair in the middle of his head. But the strangest thing was his face. As soon as he stepped into the light, Blaine could see a scar stretching from the corners of his mouth to his ears. It was like someone had tried to split his face in half and all but succeeded.

"Aw look what you did, you scared him."

Kurt looked into his eyes as he softly stroked Blaine's cheek.

Puckerman let out a humorless laugh.

"And I should care about this because?"

Kurt gave him an incredulous look.

"Look at it. It's a puppy. Would you scare a puppy, Puckerman?"

Puckerman smiled, but it came out looking like a gruesome grin. He couldn't smile anymore.

Kurt, seemingly unaffected by the man's face, rolled his eyes.

"Of course you would. Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"Yes. The Ringmaster. With him."

He pointed at Blaine.

Kurt, who was still pressed up against Blaine, reluctantly got off of him.

"Quickly."

And without another word, he walked away, the slightest swing in his hips.

"Alright lover boy. If you could tear your eyes off of Hummel's ass, that would be pretty nice."

Blaine flushed bright red and muttered something under his breath.

"It's okay, you're not the first one and you will certainly not be the last."

Somehow that made Blaine feel a little empty, inside, the thought of Kurt doing all those things with other men, affecting other men the way he had Blaine.

Speaking of that, he suddenly was very grateful for the fact that his pants were a little on the loose side.

Puckerman brought him to the dark blue trailer and turned around without another word. He clapped him on the shoulder and walked off leaving Blaine behind alone and very confused.

* * *

><p>Just as Blaine was contemplating turning back, even though he had no idea where he was, the door opened. Blaine looked inside but he didn't see how anyone could have opened the door. The trailer looked a lot bigger on the inside than it did on the outside.<p>

'Come with us.'

Another voice, not Kurt's, was whispering this time. It was a voice that did not take no for an answer, one that demanded obedience.

So Blaine entered.

He stopped in the doorframe for a second, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness inside. He looked around, but the trailer was empty save for a table, a chair and a cupboard. There was no bed to be seen. Blaine frowned and just as he wondered who had spoken before the voice sounded again.

'Come with us.'

He couldn't tell where the sound came from, it was as if it came from inside his head. His eyes scanned the room but no one seemed to be there. One of the floorboards creaked and Blaine turned around swiftly, to see nothing but thin air. The confusion was etched on his face as he turned back around and almost bumped into the voluminous figure that was The Ringmaster. The Ringmaster grinned. It was strange, the grin never reaching his eyes and looking very intimidating. Blaine put his head in his neck and squinted his eyes to see the impressive figure towering above him.

"Blaine Anderson. What a pleasure to meet you."

Blaine didn't know what to say. His mouth fell open as if to say something but he quickly closed it again as he understood that no words were going to come out anyways. He was speechless. How did that man know his name?

"Oh I know a lot, Mr. Anderson. Things about you even you didn't know. I know your deepest, darkest secrets."

Blaine gulped visibly and his eyes darted around the room, looking for exits.

"Don't bother. The only entrance is the door, which is simultaneously the only exit."

Blaine could hear the smirk in his words and felt extremely uncomfortable. His hands were sweating and he wiped them off on his pants. The Ringmaster continued.

"There is no way back, Blaine, the only roads lead forward."

There was a small silence in which Blaine tried to process what The Ringmaster just said. Surely he could go back to his normal life in the dorms, finish his school and then…

"And then what, Blaine? Then you will get a job as a lawyer in some firm no one has ever heard of, business won't go well, you will start to drink, you will get lost in the labyrinth of life and there will be nobody to pull you out of the gutter. Is that what you want? I don't think so either. There is so much potential in you, Blaine."

He could feel the Ringmaster's eyes raking up and down his body and he could hear him muttering under his breath while Blaine just stood there a bit awkwardly. Suddenly he felt a strange kind of pressure inside his head. It was like someone was inside his head, digging through memories and thoughts.

'I know you want to, Blaine. It's a good place. No one taunts you, no one would even dare touch you when you're a part of the Circus.'

The voice sounded inside his head, and Blaine knew that the Ringmaster was in fact searching through his mind. Through gritted teeth he said

"Get. Out. Of. My. Head."

'I'm afraid I can't do that, little B.'

Blaine physically cringed at the use of the nickname his mother had given him. He hadn't heard it in over ten years.

'So as I said, the only roads from here lead forward. Decide before we leave again.'

The voice of the Ringmaster echoed in his head and it was weird, knowing that you could not think of anything without someone else knowing it.

He felt the pressure inside his head lessen and suddenly it was gone.

He was standing alone outside the trailer while the people were busy hurrying inside the Big Top. He started to think it was all a dream, that he had fallen asleep playing his guitar.

Blaine stood there for a while, people bumping into him, yelling at him, pushing him aside. But he didn't move.

For what felt like hours, people kept coming by until the last one of them was inside the Big Top. A soft drizzle of rain fell down on the lonely figure standing in the middle of the clearing, as a small strip of paper fell down slowly.

It landed at Blaine's feet, written side up and he looked at it in wonder.

'_Think about it. You still have four days.'_


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm sorry for the wait, but school started again and you all know the chaos that brings. This chapter has some violence and almost rape, so if those are triggers to you, you best not read :/

But on the Brightside, there's Kurttana :D

It was only after he had read the words that he started to become aware of his surroundings again. In the distance he could hear the music already start to play, so he hurried to get into the Big Top before the actual show started.

When he entered he saw that, even though the tickets had no seat numbers on them, one seat right at the front was still empty. People didn't seem to notice it, apparently rather sitting on the floor or just standing than taking the seat. They walked right past it; not even noticing it was there. Blaine hurried over and quickly sat down, glancing around to see if no one was throwing him dirty looks but it seemed like none of the people in the tent had seen it. The lights dimmed and a soft humming sound filled the tent.

It was as if every person inside was humming. Just a steady, low hum. Blaine looked around confused, but he couldn't see anything because of the lights. In the midst of the humming, a chorus of chuckles and giggle rose up from right above where the crowd was seated. He saw people looking up, eyes squinting, trying to see where exactly the laughing came from. Suddenly three slender figures literally fell from the roof of the tent, only to land in the sand circle, kneeling. All three were wearing the same kind of costume, that looked as if it was painted onto their bodies, but at the same time it flared out a little, leaving them sitting crouched with an aura of bright red around them. There was an identical smile etched on their faces as they rose.

Just when everybody thought they were the ones giggling, another chorus of dark chuckles rose up from in the crowd. People looked around with panicked looks on their faces. With a giant leap, four more figures jumped from various places in between the people themselves. Blaine heard surprised little screams and children starting to cry. He just watched, fascinated by the scenery playing out in front of him. The four men had also risen to their feet, and now he saw their faces. All four of them had the same crooked grin, which looked like it was painted on with make-up. Blaine squinted his eyes to look at the tallest one. That hair, that face, it looked familiar… Puckerman. The clown was Puckerman. But that meant that the horrible crooked grin on all of their faces was not painted on by some kind of expensive stage make-up. He closed his eyes for a second to organize his thoughts, which were flying through his head like bees on a stuffy summer night before the thunderstorm.

All the performers were standing up now. Even though they were not many, it looked like they were crowding the small circle of sand. The air was thrumming with anticipation of their next move as they just stood there for at least two minutes. Then, all of a sudden, a light blue figure fell down graciously from the top of the tent, only to land in the middle of the circle formed by the others. He crouched down and stayed down. For a second nobody seemed to move until the blonde girl in the front snapped her head up and spoke aloud, her voice soft and smooth like silk, but sounding like it was amplified a thousand times in the silence.

"Welcome..."

Her voice trailed off into the distance, bouncing off the walls of the tent as it went.

"To the New Direction."

It was just a whisper, but everyone held their breath as the man in the light blue costume in the middle stood up slowly, looking around the tent, seemingly searching for something and as Blaine's warm honey hazel gaze met his icy blue the corners of his mouth quirked up into a smirk. He didn't let go of Blaine's eyes and Blaine found himself unable to look away, captured by the mystery in the dark depths of those eyes.

Blaine could hear the voice inside of his head before he heard it echoing through the Big Top.

"Let the show begin."

A loud bang, firecrackers exploded, a tiger roared, a whip cracked and somewhere in the audience a baby began to cry, but was quickly hushed by the mother. In a big cloud of smoke a figure clad in shiny dark blue appeared. A red glittering top hat was perched onto his head as he too, looked up slowly and let his eyes wander over the faces of the audience. He didn't bat an eye when he saw Blaine sitting in the chair in the front row, but he noticed how Blaine's eyes got wider when he pushed his mind inside Blaine's head.

"Decided yet?"

Blaine looked confused and furious at the same time while he was trying to pull up walls to keep him out of his head.

"No, I said I would have to think about it. Leave me alone!"

And just like before, the pressure subsided and left Blaine feeling empty, and confused.

"For this next act, we will need a volunteer from the audience."

His ears barely caught what the Ringmaster said before the felt his muscles contracting, working to get him up, out of his seat.

From everywhere in the crowd anxious murmurs were to be heard as Blaine rose from his seat. Only after he stood up completely and he heard himself say that he'd like to volunteer, his mind caught on to what he was doing. He tried to sit down, but his body didn't seem to correspond to the orders his brain was desperately giving.

A smug grin was plastered on the Ringmaster's face.

"Splendid. Now Sir, if you could just come here for a minute, I'll explain what we expect from you."

Blaine's legs moved by themselves and he had absolutely no control over his own body. Halfway to the circle, a pair of ice blue eyes popped up in front of him.

'Just join us, Blaine'

The melodic voice resounded inside of his head and seemed to bounce off the walls, along with the small chuckle accompanying the words. Blaine was distracted, his thoughts a little blurry and smudged but clear enough for Kurt to hear loud and clear.

'Will you be there?'

Blaine's eyes strayed, so he didn't see how the big puddles of blue suddenly filled with tears and then he was gone. With a giant leap he hung upside down from the top of the tent. For the rest of the show, Kurt just hung there, eyeing what the Ringmaster was doing with Blaine. He felt the heat of the fire warm his face, but it did him nothing. He could hear the roars of the tigers as the jumped over Blaine. It did him nothing. He could see Blaine's eyes, empty, with walls right behind them. It made him sad. He wanted Blaine to join. He wanted it so bad. But only because he wanted to himself, not because the Ringmaster had told him to.

He wished he had been able to make his own decisions.

Finally the show ended.

Kurt didn't hear the door of his trailer as he was busying himself rubbing the horrible stage make-up off his face.

"So your human was at the show."

He jumped a little, but he knew he had kept his composure by the lack of a smirk on the small, fierce looking girl's face.

"I noticed, Santana. And he's not _my _human. He's nobody's anything."

Now a smug smile was indeed pulling on the corners of her mouth.

"Come on, Hummel, just admit that you want him. I can't blame you; I mean, look at him. That is some fine fine eye candy. With those eyes, and that body. You haven't been this flirty since…"

With a low snarl he cut her off.

"You just barge into my trailer without my permission, then go all predatory on the man _I'm_ after, and still you _dare_ bring that up? I must say, Santana, I didn't expect a lot from you, but _this_? Get out."

Santana's gaze softened a little and she apologized.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so harsh. But look at it from the bright side. He'll never do anything like that again."

Kurt had turned around to stare at the wall of his trailer.

"No he won't. He will never do anything again. You killed him."

The words came out so harsh, so cold and yet so indifferent. As if they were talking about the weather instead of the death of some guy.

Time had made Kurt indifferent to so many things. Life, death, sickness. He had accepted that everything that lives must die at some point. He had to accept it. When you've been around as long as Kurt had, you learn to accept that there is an end to everything. Even to love.

He studied the wall with an unreadable look on his face. Santana knew that look. She had seen it so many times. It was the pondering look, the one you get when you think 'was it all worth it? Was it worth giving up everything?' But she knew that, in time, Kurt would come to the conclusion that, yes, it had been worth it. The Ringmaster took care of everything and everyone the best he could, but even he could not see and hear every little rumor going around. It was just another thing Ringy hadn't picked up on in time. But one _… man_ couldn't be expected to be able to see and hear everything.

Every time they did a show, Kurt would pick a human to play with. He'd flirt his way into their heads. He'd make sure that the man, no matter who or what he preferred to fuck normally, would not get him out of his dreams. Two years ago it had been the same.

_He peeked outside his trailer and spotted him right away. Big guy, kind of bulky. Probably married to a nice blonde girl with curls and three kids. And another one on the way. Perfect. This was the kind of challenge Kurt loved. By the end of the night, the guy would doubt every single thing in his short, pathetic life. By morning even more. A smug smirk tugged onto the corners of his mouth at the memory. _

_So he did a little 'research' as he liked to call it. _

_He worked his way into the Neanderthal's head. _

_But what he had found there was not quite what he had expected._

_He was married to a cute brunette. He did have a kid or two. But he also had a lover. _

_A man. _

_It surprised one side of him, but another side of him already knew. The way he looked a little skittish around his wife, the lithe brunette who was holding his arm. The way Kurt saw his eyes wander more south when the blonde guy with the (admittedly nice) backside came by. The way his brain held more images of the guy than the woman. _

_This would be easier than expected. _

_At the show he did the standard. Big blue eyes in his direction, a little more swing in his hips as he walked, a bit of a rougher quality to his voice as he first said his name. _

"_Dave."_

_The guy turned around, eyes franticly searching for the source of that voice. _

_It wasn't as if he was special or anything. Just another Dave, John, Thomas, Nick… _

_He was just another man on Kurt's list._

_But then evening came, and then night. The show was over and so was the flirting. But not for Dave. _

_While Kurt was in his trailer, scrubbing off his stage make-up, he didn't hear the footsteps outside. He didn't hear the heavy breathing. He didn't hear the door opening and closing. He only felt the hot breath in his neck and a sweaty hand clamped over his mouth. _

_His screams came out muffled. He got turned around and pushed up against the thin walls of his trailer. _

"_You think you can just prance that little ass of yours like that? Without anyone doing anything about it?"_

_Kurt felt how the hot breath ghosted over his ear and could hardly repress a shudder of disgust._

"_You know, I don't think you're dumb. So you probably know what's gonna follow. "_

_No. _

_No, this could not be happening. _

_But it was._

_A pair of lips covered his own as big, meaty hands grabbed his face. A single tear rolled from under his eyelids. _

_A tongue granted itself entrance to his mouth, but Kurt tried not to think about it. He distanced his mind from his body, thinking about the happy things in his life as a sweaty hand roamed over his chest. _

"_I bet you like this, you little filthy whore."_

_The lips left his for one short moment, and Kurt let out a choked sob. The hand traveled lower and lower and stopped at the waistband of his pants. Dave pressed up against him, and Kurt felt the man's hardness against his thigh. In one swift motion the hand slipped inside of his pants, wrapping around his member. Kurt made a strangled sound. _

_Wrong, wrong, wrong. _

_This wasn't how it was supposed to go. _

_This wasn't what he had in mind. _

_Dave was now grinding himself against Kurt's leg and still furiously working his hand. A choked sound escaped Kurt's mouth. The hand stopped, thank gods, but only to come up to his neck and squeeze so tightly Kurt couldn't breathe._

_The grinding kept going and going and air, he needed air so badly and then there it was. The moment where Dave shuddered and slumped against him, a low grunt coming from low in his throat. In that moment of weakness, Kurt brought his knee up with all the force he could muster. _

_Dave practically folded in half, wheezing and tears streaming down his face. For the next moment Kurt didn't know what to do. _

_Then he screamed._

_He screamed at the top of his lungs, an earsplitting screech that made the leaves on the trees nearby rustle restlessly. _

_Within seconds Santana almost kicked in his door, followed by Puckerman and a few others. _

_They froze in the doorframe, seemingly paralyzed by the scene playing out in front of them. The man lying on the ground, squirming, unable to utter a word and then Kurt, pressed against the wall, eyes wide and glossy with tears. The next three seconds happened in a blur. Puck and Sam, one of the other jokers, grabbed Dave and hoisted him to his feet. They had him up against the wall with the blink of an eye while Santana rushed over to Kurt, who just stood there with his hand clamped over his mouth, big blue eyes staring off into the distance. She took his hands in hers and tried to get through to him._

"_Kurt! Kurt, what did he do? You have to tell us, Kurt."_

_In a moment of tenderness she swept a falling tear of his cheek and looked into his eyes. _

"_Did he hurt you?"_

_Eyes still glazed over, he nodded. _

"_Did he do anything besides hurt you?"_

_Kurt nodded almost imperceptible._

_The concern was heavy in her voice as she looked into his eyes._

"_Kurt. Did he rape you?"_

_He shook his head, but after she fixed him with a look, he gave in. _

"_Yes. Or at least, he tried to."_

_Santana's eyes became hard. She turned to the boys, who still held down a struggling Dave Karofsky. _

"_Finish it."_

_With surprising ease, the Jokers lifted up the man, and dragged him outside. Kurt could hear the twigs and leaves breaking beneath their feet, and he could hear the rustling as they dragged Karofsky away into the forest._

_It was only when he couldn't hear them anymore that he collapsed into Santana's arms, who held him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, trying to comfort him. _

_She hugged him until hours later he stopped crying, completely drained and he just fell asleep. The boys came back, hands washed, clothes discarded, just like the body. _

_And the incident was never mentioned again. _

He didn't notice he had started crying again until he felt Santana's soft hands handing him a tissue. She forced him to look at her.

"Honey, you did nothing wrong. Well, yeah, you flirted with him, but everybody flirts. I just don't want you to beat yourself up over things that happened 2 years ago. It happened. It got solved. Please don't worry anymore."

Kurt sniffled one last time and then he nodded.

"There's my boy. Now, about this Blaine…"

The light seemed to return to Kurt's face as he started to gush about Blaine and the unpleasant memories were pushed to the back of his mind.

They were not forgotten, not at all. But they were hidden in a place where it would be a lot harder to find them.


	5. Chapter 4

**(Song: Nearly Witches (Ever Since We Met) – Panic! At The Disco)**

**I strongly recommend you listen to the song while reading this. STRONGLY. Start it when it starts in the story. **

That night, Blaine could not fall asleep. His hazel eyes were fixed on the light beige of his ceiling, a moisture stain slowly making it's way across. It was halfway, coloring the cheap wood a darker shade as his thoughts trailed off to blue eyes, lined with a thin black line, chestnut hair, looking like one of the fluffy cotton candies he'd seen on the rest of the clearing. He glanced sideways at his roommate and saw that he was snoring peacefully, completely tangled in his own blankets and dreams.

One last time he let his thoughts wander through the dark forest of images and impressions, of feels and sensations.

When he opened his eyes again, the room seemed to be encased in some sort of red haze. It was as if the moon had suddenly started to shine red.

A dry click and a soft buzz came from the door, as if someone had just put on a gramophone. Three soft, subtle voices sounded through his small dorm room, singing in a language that sounded like French.

The voices came closer and closer, and all of a sudden, one slender hand encircled his wrist and pushed it against the headboard. A second hand snaked up, fingers drawing a trail from his abs up to his chin. It cupped his cheek and then went higher, caressing his face and tangling fingers in his loose curls.

Meanwhile, a third hand- Wait, three hands? But there it was, slowly sliding up from his ankles, over his calves, to his thigh. It stopped there as a fourth arm wrapped around his waist at the same time as one last hand traced patterns on his chest. Three mouths breathed hot air over his face, his chest, his leg, as they softly sang in French. He looked down, to see three pairs of eyes staring back.

They sang a few more words, before disappearing, vanishing into nothing but thin air, leaving the room laden with the heavy smell of perfume.

_**Je n'ai qu'un seul et unique regret**_

An accordeon started playing some kind of crooked rhythm as a slender silhouette appeared in the doorframe, all of the curves on his thin, yet muscular body clearly visible. Blaine breathed in sharply. Kurt moved like a snake, smooth waves starting in his hips and making their way through his entire body.

A guitar, although sounding strangely electric, took over, strumming harsh beats through the nocturnal silence. He strutted to where Blaine stood, hips swaying in time with the electric thrum. He put one finger against Blaine's chest, and pushed him back, until the back of his knees hit the bed and he tumbled down. Kurt straddled him and mouthed at his jaw line as a voice in the distance started singing.

He let his lips savor the slight drag of the stubble that graced Blaine's neck. Suddenly he bit down, leaving a small, red mark. A gasp, followed by a low whine in the back of his throat came involuntarily as Kurt's tongue flicked out to lick at the bruise.

A piano played a tinkling scale, which Kurt mimicked, his fingers gliding over Blaine's chest, to the waistband of his pants, fingers playing across the edge.

_**Drag melody**_

Kurt dragged his tongue over Blaine's neck and rolled his hips down at the same time, rendering Blaine speechless save for the soft sounds he kept making in the back of his throat. He never felt so powerful.

Blaine turned his face, lips searching,

Eyes pleading, body thrumming,

Hips bucking up and hands gripping sheets,

Crumpling up Kurt's shirt in his fist.

Kurt slowly, teasingly kissed his way up to Blaine's nose, pulling back with a smirk on his face, just when he felt two hands on either side of his face, pulling him down.

Blaine crashed their lips together in a searing kiss, teeth clashing so hard it hurt, but neither one of them cared enough to stop.

Tongues danced a fierce tango while battling for dominance, too wet, too hot and too covered.

Blaine desperately pulled at the hem of Kurt's incredibly tight shirt,

One swift move of Kurt's hand and all of the buttons on Blaine's shirt popped off, rolling all over the dark hardwood floor, leaving his chest naked for Kurt to see. He ran his hands over it, worshipped it with his tongue and teeth and hands.

Hips rutted against each other without hesitation, fingers tangled in hair.

_**As a boy**_

_**You have set your heart **_

_**On haunting me forever**_

Breaths mingled with sounds and syllables strung together,

_**From the start**_

He felt Kurt's hot breath on his ear as the other whispered brokenly

_**It's never silent**_

Their movements became less and less coordinated, more and more just feeling and lust and want.

Both men felt the heat encircling them, coming from everywhere around them, inside them, coiling up tighter and tighter. It felt as if something from outside was pushing them closer together, and something inside them pulled them together like magnets.

Their eyes flew open and ice met fire for a split second before Kurt darted away, averting his eyes and stumbling out the door.

_**And that one regret is you**_

This couldn't be.

This wasn't possible.

In all of the years that he had played this game, not once had he…

He heard Blaine coming after him, calling his name with a desperate undertone.

The voice in the distance became frantic, the singer panting in time with the clacking of Kurt's feet on the cold, costly limestone tiles.

_**How does a heart love, if no one has noticed **_

_**Its presence and where does it go?**_

He pushed his back against the wall and waited for Blaine to round the corner, hand clasped over his mouth, trying to steady his breathing and calm down his thoughts, which were whirling through his mind like a pile of leaves someone jumped in. Blaine ran through the corridors, following the sound of another heart thrumming heavily, his bare feet slapping against the cold tiles and echoing of the walls.

_**Trembling hands play my heart like a drum,**_

_**But the beats gotten lost in the show**_

A hand shot out and grabbed his arm and he was pulled against another body, breathing hard. Long, slender fingers traced the curve of his body as it melted against his. He felt dizzy and confused.

"Kurt?" His words were silenced by a pair of lips crashing into his, a tongue thrusting into his mouth, and a knee nudging his legs apart so Kurt could put his thigh between Blaine's legs.

_**It's never silent**_

Blaine pushed him away, looking into his ice blue eyes. The façade Kurt Hummel had put up for years was slowly crumbling.

One tear slowly made it's way over his beautiful, pale face, but Blaine cupped his face in his hands and wiped it away with his thumb, then kissed the spot where he wiped it off.

He pulled him closer for a kiss, but this time a lot slower and actually meaningful. His lips moved over Blaine's, his tongue dragged over his lower lip and slipped inside his mouth, languidly exploring every square inch.

His every move felt like fire tracing burning patterns on his skin, every sweep of his tongue sending shivers of pure electricity up through his spine every touch firing sparks of pleasure through his body.

They moved faster, but as one. One breath, one heartbeat, one pulsing cloud of heat, swirling around, coiling up tighter into one ball of pure lust, trapping both men inside.

"Kurt…"

"Blaine…"

Names tumbled from kiss-swollen lips, mumbled between tongue and teeth and motion.

_**And that one regret is you**_

They clung to each other, bodies tensing up almost simultaneously, eyes screwing shut, jaws falling open and breaths coming out in small, harsh, ragged pants.

Kurt's head fell back against the window with a soft thud as his breathing stuttered and he let the waves of pleasure roll over him. He almost didn't hear three delicate voices coming closer. Almost. He felt soft, but strong hands picking him up, prying Blaine away from his arms. He struggled weakly, but his lids fell closed, eyelashes stuck together with tears he didn't even know he had spilled.

Kurt let himself drift off, away from Dalton, away from Blaine, away from…

Away from _love. _

With a jolt, Blaine woke up. His bed felt strangely hard and cold, and it took him a moment to figure out that he was in the hallway. Wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms, which, for added comfort, were stained and sticky.

He felt cold seep not only into his muscles and bones, but also into his heart.

What had he done wrong?

Had he actually done anything?

Was it all just a dream or did Kurt really come here last night?

And why the hell was he in a deserted hallway, half naked, when the sun was just pushing her purple and orange glow above the horizon?

He rubbed his eyes, raked his fingers through his unruly curls, which laid in a mop on top of his head. Sleep still fogged up his head, and he began to stumble back to his room, almost knocking over a potted plant on the way.

He opened the door a little too noisily, and woke up his roommate.

Jeff sat up, rubbing his eyes, yawning so wide Blaine thought he heard his jaw pop, and then shooting him a confused look.

"Why are you going out? It's…"

He looked at the clock hanging above his bed.

"Five thirty in the morning. In the _morning_, Blaine. Go the fuck back to sleep."

He slipped under the covers of his bed, which still faintly smelt like perfume and tried to doze off again.

Blaine knew Jeff was right. He had to sleep, but when he closed his eyes all he saw was that one fraction of a second that he had seen the real Kurt Hummel.

Not the artist Kurt Hummel.

Not the acrobat Kurt Hummel.

Not even the smirking, teasing, bad boy Kurt Hummel.

Just plain Kurt Hummel.

Just another vulnerable young man, alone against a world that's too big to fight by yourself.

A lot like him actually.

He made himself a promise that night.

Whatever happened, wherever the circus went, wherever Kurt went, he wouldn't go there alone.

"Seems like our sleeping beauty finally decided to grace us with his conscious presence again."

Santana's sharp voice pierced the comfortable darkness that stuffed his head. Kurt groaned and turned around to bury his face in the pillow next to him.

The only problem was that there was no pillow. His face hit the hard wooden floor of his trailer with thump. Sprawled out onto the floor like that, he carefully opened one eye.

He immediately closed it, blocking out the too-bright-too-hot rays of sun filtering in through his window.

"What the hell are you doing here at this ungodly hour, woman?" He croaked out. His voice was hoarse for some unknown reason. Had he… Screamed last night?

That was about the moment everything came back and hit him in the face, like a tidal wave of scents, sounds, and sights.

Blaine, only half clothed, sweating, panting, moaning his name.

One drop of sweat rolling down over his neck.

Cold tiles beneath his naked feet, his breathing sounding strangely ragged.

Stumbling through deserted corridors with hardwood walls and expensive looking furniture.

Hazel and golden eyes, with flecks of green, but almost completely covered by lust-blown pupils.

A voice calling his name when the cold glass of a window pressed into his back.

A calloused thumb sweeping something wet off his precious skin.

"I don't know if you forgot, sweet cheeks, but Brit, Q and I were the ones to save you from another awkward talk. 'Hi, I know you just woke up, but my hand is down your pants and since I only have three days, let's make the best of it.' That kind of awkward talk."

And then there was that feeling that Blaine was actually _something, _instead of just another guy to 'satisfy his urges'.

He screwed his eyes shut and sighed deeply.

It was not what was supposed to happen.

He had never meant for it to happen.

He had only three days left.

Kurt Hummel never intended to fall in love with Blaine Anderson.


End file.
